Two Minds
by The 24.7 daydreamer
Summary: This story is written collaboratively by myself and a friend. Each chapter is written by the other whilst discussing NOTHING about the next in between. We only find out the next chapter when proof-reading. The plot is never set in stone as it will change according to the writer. This aims to be a fun experiment and we hope you enjoy :) T for language.
1. Intro

Two Minds:

Hello. Firstly thanks for reading this story of ours so far. We would just like to explain the reasoning behind this particular venture of ours. We had a little chat and thought it might be fun to write a story collaboratively, however, we thought we'd also have a little fun. Each chapter is written alternatively by either one of us, starting with my friend- Anon. However, whilst writing, nothing will be discussed _at all_ regarding what will happen in each chapter or (coming chapters); we only find out what the other writer has done when we send our chapters to each other to proof read. At that stage the proof reader cannot make any changes to the plot.

As a result the overarching plot is never set in stone. It is up to the next writer to read, highlight the themes which he/she thinks are apparent in the other writers writing, and take them forward in whatever way he/she chooses. For the writers it is a double process of creating, reading along with you guys and discovering. As is to be expected this makes the story really difficult to name at this point because neither of us know what is going to happen so we have settled temporarily for the one above.

We thought it would be fun. Hope you enjoy.


	2. Chapter 1 Anon

Grim. That's all that could be said of what Mia opened the front door up to. The rain threw itself heavy against the ground; the trees wrestled to and fro against the roaring wind and the sky looked heavy with grey. "Do I have to? Right now?" she called up the stairs.

"Yes darling, or it'll all be washed by this evening" returned a voice from the upper floor of the cottage.

"Can't you do it?"

"I'm trying to fix these lights sweetheart. If I'm all wet when I get back in then I'll end up electrocuting myself "

"Shame" she grumbled.

"What was that sweetheart? I didn't catch it."

"Oh nothing" she muttered. She quickly threw on her wax jacket and took a large step out onto the track leading down to the entrance to the farm house. The rain battered against her face until it stung her eyes. The force of the wind pushed each step back and all the way she cursed and grumbled. This is not what she thought moving out to live with Patrice would be like. As quick as she could she made it to the main road and grabbed the tin with all the money in and, leaving the rest of the produce to be consumed by the winter weather, she bolted back to the house. The path always seemed longer on the way back; always much easier to leave than to return yet, defeated by the wet, she trudged back and crashed back through the door. Slamming the box on the side and dumping her coat and boots across the hallway floor, she collapsed in armchair and faced the open fire in a state of sheer resignation. Only the fire lit the house. Everything seemed to be broken in this place, no light, no real heat and hole appeared in every room each day as if the house itself was giving up and walking way.

Looking blankly into the fire Mia drifted back to a happier place. The late summer in Jersey had been great. The days were long and warm and she and Patrice could linger in the countryside for hours in complete comfort of the sun with occasional soothing breeze from the sea. The views were always romantic but now, thinking back, inspired both peace and sadness for Mia had, until now, never been far from home. Whilst at University in Southampton, she was never far from her native London where she could enjoy the hustle and bustle of metropolitan life and immerse herself in the undying lights, music and sound of an ever dramatic city. Southampton had been a fantastic time. She had sailed through all her Bio-Chem practicals. There was no need to listen or pay attention the whole thing just made sense to her. While complex equations and methods would baffle those around her she would simply stroll up to the desk grab what she felt the experiment needed and create the most perfect specimens, much to the delight of her Professors and the distain of her classmates. It was odd to her but after a while came to ignore it along with all the other strange events in her life. After all, this 'talent' she seemed to have allowed her to concentrate on what she really had an interest for: Men.

Mia would have to admit that her first year had been a year of 'variety' in this regard, but, that was of no surprise since she was certainly not disadvantaged in the looks department. Five foot eight with striking brownish ginger hair that twisted and fell just to her shoulders. This particular feature, among others, had earned her a fair few drinks across the years and, in turn, those drinks had introduced her to many admirers. Come third year however, Patrice had caught her attention, his innocent charm and his soft French accent drew her attention away from all the others and they spent the remaining year's content together. Moving out with him however had been a real test. He moved back to run the family farm. They had settled up in an old farmhouse just outside St. Ouen just for a year (or so she was told) but the slow paced life had really left Mia itching for something else. She sank back further into the red tartan armchair. Although it had been substantially worn in, Mia had taken a liking to it instantly; it often bore the weight of her boredom and misery a sad, but loyal companion in the lonely countryside. What frustrated her further is the fact that Patrice seemed not to even notice, for she liked to hope that he would eventually-only to be let down. The farm had soaked up all of his attention, first with the harvest: now followed by the repairs. As night drew in Mia felt her eye droop with the weight of the heavy fire and soon she succumbed to sleep.

While she rested so did the storm. In those few hours a clear still sky hung above the dim silhouette of the hills brushed over by a biting breeze. As the fire slowly died away Patrice gently dropped a blanket over her. She woke with a jerk. "What a weird dream" she half murmured as she stretched in every direction.

"What was that?"

"Oh nothing. Just something silly really."

"No, go on. What did you get up to?" he said lightly playing with her hair.

"It's just, well, um it's kind of a memory I think. I can't really remember. I'm small, probably only about five. I was in the city again and everyone is tall. I was alone; not scared though, kind of excited really. I weave in and out of people and trip over my lace."

Subtly Mia moved Patrice's hand away. She really didn't like him playing with her hair all that much. She knew it was stupid but it just had come to annoy her more and more for a reason she couldn't explain.

"I look up and there's this place that looks like pub not that you could really tell, pretty normal but really dark, y'know?"

"_Oui" _her still doting partner reassured not really knowing where this was going.

"It's not just dark inside but the building itself is black. People just walk by and really pay no attention to it. I paused briefly outside to check if anyone is watching; I have no idea where my parents are either. But in this dream I am strangely drawn to this pub. The door is ajar and I squeeze in. I can't really remember much more." She paused.

"There were really strange people in there; strange for reason I couldn't quite my finger on. This is all pretty boring, I'm sorry... yes so I, unnoticed, make way through to the back ducking under tables and stools. It was outside but I couldn't hear the street I left or any of London at all for that matter. A young girl and her mother stood in hand blankly in front of an unsuspecting wall. They were very strange too, they wore robes. Suddenly, the wall moved. Each brick peeled back crunching and grinding and make an amazing sound. I hid. It looked like a backward jigsaw puzzle the whole thing was alive. Just before I see what's behind it, I always wake up."

"Amazing" Patrice yawns "Pretty weird. I never get dreams like yours, you should write them down."

"I told you it wasn't that interesting, it's just I swear this has happened or something, or at least I may have dreamt it. I have I'm certain but not for a long time. Ah never mind. What time is it?"

"_Onze heures et demi." _

"Not French at this time Patrice, you know I'm exhausted."

"Half eleven."

"Right then, let's get to bed then, hopefully I'll sleep a bit better." She said as she rose from the chair. She made her way over to the hall and rummaged around for a hair bobble on the little wooden table by the door. Passing over glasses, keys, odd bits of paper and the like she noticed a rather nice looking envelope. It was even held together with a wax seal. It looked like, although admittedly barely visible by the moonlight, a school seal with a large 'H' in the centre. Not Mia's for certain.

"Do you still get letters from school?" She called back.

"No? Oh that thing. That's yours sweetheart, I completely forgot to say, it arrived for you this morning I was just so busy.

Picking it up to look at it closer, Mia could feel the quality of the paper. Turning it over, she saw that indeed it was addressed to her.

_Miss Mia Penwood_

_ Le Masure_

_ St. Ouen, Jersey _

"I thought my family were the only ones who knew this address? I haven't given it out."

"I don't know "Patrice replied heading upstairs. "Open it."

"Not just now I think. That's tomorrow's problem"

...

The winter sun was up and Mia, half asleep, rolled over again and again for reluctance to bracing the cold outside the bed and trying to fill the day with something to do. She reached out across the bed. Nothing. As usual Patrice was up and about; it had been ages since they just lain in with one another. Groaning, she made her way downstairs, straight to the fridge.

"I'll make breakfast..." She called out. She knew he'd be in the house somewhere. "I'm just gonna head into town!"

Flinging on her coat again and the nearest clothes she could find she made her way out onto the road which as usual was ghostly empty. As she walked, Mia marvelled at the sharp crisp sunlight and the exceedingly tall shadow that stretched out before her. It was bitterly cold still but at least it wasn't raining she thought. As she regarded the huge strides her shadowy doppelganger was making, she noticed another grow in front of her. The figure of a bird became her companion imprinted on the road. An intrusive 'hoot' came from behind as, to her surprise when she looked round, an earthy brown owl speckled in grey followed behind. She continued to walk and the continued to follow. It would alternate between an awkward sequence of hops followed by brief periods of flight, batting its wings enough only to lift itself off the ground and keep pace with Mia. All the way down the hill it followed, taking off, landing, and hoping always glaring at her with its beady eyes. Mia, as was her custom with any strange occurrences, ignored it but the constant feeling of being watched after twenty minutes had grown to be quite enough,

"Get away!" she cried. It didn't. Silently it continued for many minutes more. "You are a most unattractive thing! Piss off!" she cried again. Then, realising her own scene she cried "Great! Now I'm talking to a bloody bird"

It continued shadowing her step by step even into the town, even to the local shop. The owl waited. Mia quickly stepped through the door hoping that would be the end of it.

"_Bonjour Jenny! Ca va?"_ The lady behind the counter exclaimed with a livey and enthusiastic manner that Mia could not return.

" _Oui, Ca va...um ..._yeah, hi" she muttered ,recalling lower school French with little success. She turned back again to see if her pest had given in. Such was not her luck. He had perched himself up on the window ledge and peered in- now berating her with incessant hoots.

Quickly grabbing the things she needed she asked in her best broken French, "_Um est-ce que vous avons des, des...des um..._breakfast muffins" Each of her pauses broken up by a 'twit' or 'tawoo' piercing through the shop window louder and louder each time.

The lady, who Mia had often spoken to and shared her woes with often when left alone to herself, replied "You know, it is getting better, stick at it. You seem to have found at least one friend around here now besides me. A human would probably be better conversation but for now we can settle for a bird." She said with a smile.

"Oh, him? Yeah, well I'd say my 'owl' is probably better than my French. Keep the rest of it" Picking the brown paper bag Mia made her way out of the shop and all the way back up the road. To her surprise, but not regret, her feathered friend had disappeared. Little did she realise however that he circled above. Several minutes later she had reached the track back up to the cottage. The owl swooped down, circled her twice and landed in front of her on the doormat in the porch. Mia strode right passed it and burst in through the front door. Looking down she noticed that the letter had found itself neatly, as if placed, face up on the floor right inside the entrance. "Weird" Mia thought as she picked it up. She turned back through the open door once again to see the owl blankly staring once more, head cocked to one side, eerily silent. "That's enough of you" she thought and slammed the large blue wooden door right in its face.

Turning to the letter, she curiously opened it:

_Dear Miss Mia Penwood_

_Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry and the Department for Magical Community Integration in the Ministry of Magic would like to offer you the rare opportunity to learn and harness your talents in magic. There are many who for one reason or another, have never had the opportunity to develop their potential for magic use. You have been carefully selected. We would like to join us this summer in a course for mature aspiring witches and wizards._

_We understand that although you have had less than favourable experience with magic and your abilities in the past, that now would be an ideal time to understand your own talents and join our new learning initiative. Once you have replied we will detail further arrangements _

_We look forward to receiving your owl_

_Yours sincerely _

_Professor McGonagall – Headmistress _

_Arthur Tangleford – Minister for the Higher Education of Wizardry_

As soon as she had read to herself the final line, a persistent pecking fired up on the door behind. 


End file.
